e--that she was absent
conferring with Miss Shirley and trying to save the day.

A long, deeply sighed "Oh-h-h-h!" shuddering from many lips made him
turn abruptly, and he saw, glimmering against the pall at the bottom of
the darkened library, a figure vaguely white, in which he recognized a
pose, a gesture familiar to him. For the others the figure was It, but
for him it was preciously She. It was she, and she was going to carry it
through; she was going to triumph, and not fail. A lump came into his 96
throat, and a mist blurred his eyes, which, when it cleared again, left
him staring at nothing.

A girl's young voice uttered the common feeling, "Why, is that all?"

"It is, till some one asks the ghost a question; then it will reappear,"
Bushwick rose to say. "Will Miss Andrews kindly step forward and ask the
question nearest her heart?"

"Oh no!" the girl answered, with a sincerity that left no one quite free
to laugh.

"Some other lady, then?" Bushwick suggested. No one moved, and he added,
"This is a difficulty which had been foreseen. Some gentleman will step
forward and put the question next his heart." Again no one offered to
go forward, and there was some muted laughter, which Bushwick checked.
"This difficulty had been foreseen, too. I see that I shall have to make
the first move, and all that I shall require of the audience is that I
shall not be supposed to be in collusion with the illusion. I hope that
after my experience, whatever it is, some young woman of courage will
follow."

He passed into the foyer, and from that came into the library, where he
showed against the dark background in an attitude of entreaty slightly
burlesqued. The ghost reappeared.

"Shall I marry the woman I am thinking of?" he asked.

The phantom seemed to hesitate; it wavered like a pale reflection cast
against the pall. Then, in the tones which Verrian knew, the answer
came:

"Ask her. She will tell you."

The phantom had scored a hit, and the applause was silenced with
difficulty; but Verrian felt that Miss Shirley had lost ground. It could
not have been for the easy cleverness of such a retort that she had
planned the affair. Yet, why not? He was taking it too seriously. It was
merely business with her.

"And I haven't even the right to half a question more!" Bushwick
lamented, in a dramatized dejection, and crossed slowly back from the
library to his place.

"Why, haven't you got enough?" one of the men asked, a